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You're fighting over crumbs and starving in the shit
Burning in the garden as they watch over it
Put you out to pasture while you're chomping at the bit
The line between art and pain no longer exists

You're bleeding in the blur
You're dying in a ditch
Paint the picture how you want
It's yours to make fit

I'm basking in the black on black
While you're grinding in the gray
A factory of cowards. An army of inane.
Faith in numbers on the paper
The view will never change
Constructed just to fill the void, you oil the machine.

You're bleeding in the blur

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